


après moi, le déluge.

by tastylemonade



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Anxiety, Car Accidents, Dad!Connor, Domestic Fluff, Exes, Heavy Angst, It's just hard, Nightmares, Other, POV Second Person, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, The Eden Club Chapter (Detroit: Become Human), connor has anxiety can i get an amen, he's trying his best, human!AU, later tho, reverse!au - Freeform, some sad shit right here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-01 21:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17251319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastylemonade/pseuds/tastylemonade
Summary: Connor has a son. He just wants to be good at something for once.





	1. Chapter 1

it is a saturday morning.  **6:45 A.M**., your kitchen clock reads. faint rays of sunlight streams through the windows from the wall you lean against. she hasn’t arrived with him yet, so you fidget with a coin he gifted you while in the park a few weeks prior. breakfast, consisting of exactly two waffles a piece, accompanied by a generous serving of scrambled eggs and orange juice, sits on the small white table for just you and him; she doesn’t overstay her welcome anymore. you don’t mind. this is simply routine, a formality. love (what did you know about  _love?_ ), nor _passion_ , nor _infatuation_ would pull you from  _responsibility_. you had none to offer in the first place; she understood (did she have a _choice?_ ), and out of your impulsive, carnal sin, you gained something to hope for. a taste of something more. him first. always him first.   
a familiar car pulls into the driveway with a honk. you decide you’ll take him to the park today.

  
-

  
“look at this one. this says it’s a  _dwarf gourami,_ native to South Asia.”   
“i like the colors,” he says with awe. small hands brush against the glass, curious, perplexed. aquariums were so _rare_ , and you were quite fond of the unconventional. his laughter resonates throughout the hallway as you scoop him into your arms, you made a _damn_ fine kid, you were sure about _that_.  
"let’s keep going, buddy. we’ve got a whole two hours to explore this place.” 

  
-

  
“dad,” he begins quietly,  “do you like dogs?”  _ah_. _how’d she know?_   you briefly glance at him in the rear view mirror before returning your gaze at the road ahead. too much rain, for your liking. “i sure do, kiddo. why d’you ask?” you know exactly why. it’s a surprise though, and he won’t have to wait long since his birthday (has it been six years already?) isn’t shy of a week from now. he doesn’t answer immediately, and simply looks out the window with a ghost of a smile. “i do, too.”  
  


-  
  
  
"now with this one, you've gotta close your eyes _real_ tight, and don't open them until i say. alright?" "promise!" he wastes no time to keep his oath, oblivious to the living room you both sat in and the current squirming present you held in your arms. he's a smart kid ( _of course_ he is, he's yours, isn't he?), so you're about 99.99% positive he knows what it could be, but the small yipping might've played a part in the discovery, too. "hold out your hands, cole, and get a good grip on 'em, alright?" his answer, a series of giggles, is enough for you, so you place the saint bernard pup carefully in his grasp. a smile graces your features, as always when you're with him, and a small laugh escapes you once he is greeted with kisses from his new companion. "sumo," he proclaims through the tender affection, "his name is sumo."   
  
  
once he's safely tucked into his bed, "sumo" is quick to lay at his feet as you leave the door open with a crack. you are enraptured in your thoughts so much that you almost miss the soft, " _dad_?" he murmurs through half-lidded eyes. "yes, son?" you briefly wonder why, in such a warm, tender moment, you feel so melancholy, but his utterance of _i love you_ is enough to pull you back to the present. "i love you too, cole. more than you'll ever know." he is content with your answer and settles back under the covers, and you pull out your "lucky coin" from your pocket as you take a seat at the kitchen table. it wasn't something you planned on mastering, but it made him smile, so you practiced the small tricks, anyway.  
your life isn't yours anymore, but you want it this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to explore the concept of connor being a father in the reverse human au, so, naturally, i picked my lizard brain and this spilled out,, I figured, based on my idea of human!connor, it'd make sense cole was a surprise from a one night stand and nothing conventional.  
> as always, comments & feedback are appreciated and encouraged <3


	2. Chapter 2

a flash. a screech. a light- no,  _lights_. so many lights. so much noise- so sudden, you don’t remember your vision being obscured. in fact, you are not able to see anything at all.  _move._ what? you try, you really do, but your thoughts are sluggish, hazy. and there are so many  _voices,_ you want to shout for them to  _please_  shut up, you’ve got a kid in the car, but you can hardly feel your lips move.   
  
a few snowflakes begin to settle somewhere on your face, and you realize you’re outside now. the darkened, clouded Detroit sky greets your sight. nothing unusual for the month of october, but you’d rather not risk catching a cold. you want to rub your eyes to see better, maybe pick yourself up from the ground, but your arms remain stubbornly at your sides.   
“Detective Anderson? can you hear me alright?”   
  
 _static?_   there’s a brief beam of light before they continue. “barely conscious, but he’s still kickin’.” more static, more voices as they raise something to their mouth. “large abrasion around the temple, heavy bleeding in the upper abdominal area.” a shuffle, then a slight pause. “don’t worry sir, we’ll get you patched up.”  _this is incredibly inane,_  you want to snap _, just let me and my son go on our way, i’m with the Detroit Police Department for Christ’ sake,_ but they place something over the side of your head- a towel? you didn’t need a  _towel_ , you needed to know why the hell you couldn’t move your body, you needed to find cole, where the fuck was cole-   
  
“your son is being transported to the hospital in a different ambulance. i need you to keep still, sir, to prevent any further blood loss.” the movement is brief and uncomfortable, but at least, now, you weren’t lying on cold asphalt. they continue to apply pressure to your head, someone else rips open your blue and yellow button up, but you’re not able to complain about how much you paid for the damn thing; instead, what little breath you held onto leaves abruptly along with consciousness, and as your eyes roll back, you hope, for once, that there  _was_ such a thing as divine intervention, and they would interfere and aid you, just this once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me for i have sinned,,


	3. Chapter 3

his face is alight with joy as he runs through the backyard with his new companion, his laughter makes your heart ache with pride,  _love (yes, love)_. a beautiful combination you would never trade for the world, two things you would experience without severity. the sun shines unusually bright, but you enjoy the warmth.

  
she is also there, standing at the doorway and watching him with a smile. the wedding band she wears gleams, and you walk over to kiss the hand it rests upon. “i love you,” you proclaim, and in return, she asks, “why did you use me, Connor?” _what?_

  
he has stopped, in the distance, the sky a harsh, bleak grey. he is before you now, skin so _pale_ , the small drops of snow littering his face as looks over at you, asking, “why, dad?" _no, please don't-_ "why did you let me-“   
  
**_enough_**.  
  
the fantasy, along with their forms, melts away, and you remember, with sudden urgency, this was not the truth  _at all.  
_the truth was that it was fucking november, you could not, more so were  _incapable_  of loving her, and he was never coming back, and it was all your fault, he was six feet under the ground because of you, and now, what were you left with?


	4. Chapter 4

**nov. 19**

_5:47 AM_. Twist off covers. Twist on shower. Hot. Blistering. Soothing. Soap, Rinse, Repeat, until nothing is visible. 

Dry. Teeth. Shave? Not today. 

Dress. Check for spots, smell.

Cereal? Not enough time. Maybe enough time for espresso. Enough time for a smoke.

Keys, check. Gun, badge, gum, check.

Drive. Punch in. 

Work. Smoke?

Work. Work. Coffee. Work. Type report. 

Work-

 _11:22 PM._  

Drive. Feed Sumo. Tonight's menu: leftovers, Chicken Feed.

Sleep.

**nov. 24**

_1:16 AM_. Sleep? No, a nightmare. An ache. Wet face. Dry, cracked hands. Too cold.   
_1:25 AM. 1:26 AM. 1:27 AM._  Hollow. 

 _5:30 AM._  Twist off covers. Twist on shower. Hot. Not hot enough. Soap, Rinse, Repeat, until nothing is visible. 

Dry. Teeth. Shave? Tomorrow. 

Dress. Check for spots, smell.

Cereal, milk this time. Smoke.

Keys, gun, badge, ran out of gum. 

Drive. Punch in.

Work. Smoke, two.

Work. Crime scene today. Easy enough.

Type report. Review case files.  
  
Review case files.  
Review case files.  
~~Review-~~ _unconscious_. 

A tap. A shake. An android, overnight crew. 

_"REMINDER: Detective Connor Anderson, it is 12:05 AM, after precinct hours."_

Drive. Feed Sumo. Sleep, for dinner, too.

**dec. 11th**

_2:58 AM_. A nightmare. A familiar ache. Wet, cracked hands from wet face. Heart, too fast, not enough air. Breathe. Slow, empty.  
More alive. More dead.

**dec. 15th**

_10:19 PM_. Drive.

Convenience store, not too far. Familiar face. 

"Anderson! Menthol's, right?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Just a few items. Carton of milk, cigs, booze, gum, maybe peppermint this time-  
  
"Hey, man, heard about the kid...,"  
  
_Ding._  
  
"I'm so sorry. You're a good guy, damn good cop, too." _  
  
Ding._   
  
"Well anyway- anythin' else tonight?" _A way out.  
_  
"Just this." _Peppermint, it is._ "Shit- do fifty for number four, too." "No prob, Rob."  
  
_Ding_ _._

**dec. 27th**

_2:31 AM_. A nightmare. Numb to the ache, bottomless. Dry face, for once; you are not able to spill anymore tears, and so you spill over countless bottles, not to feel, per say (you couldn't if you wanted), but to be swallowed, not to forget (you never would), but to remember, to suffocate in your indiscretion, a _reminder_. cowardice, you think, too _fearful_ to pull the trigger, but just _selfless_ enough to relive it, _over_ and _over_ and _over_ \- that should count for something, shouldn't it?

jan. 1

feb. 1

mar. 1

apr. 1

may 1


End file.
